"Everything's under control." Though the skeptical looks bouncing around the room tell me I haven't convinced anyone. "Every detail's been reviewed multiple times. No reason it shouldn't go smoothly. We've got enough people on the customs payroll who'll look the other way, and if anyone gets chatty, I'm sure we can find one of the Red Poppy's more generous patrons to help us out."
"What if Marzena doesn't stop?" Vad again.
Just hearing her name makes every muscle in my back lock up tight. I can't stand the sound of it anymore.
"I'll make sure we spend some quality family time together." Simple words, but everyone nods because they understand exactly what that time will look like. Her screaming while my blade peels back every layer of skin I can reach.
After another round of concerns and half-hearted wedding congratulations, I drop onto the couch with a sharp grimace.
"Think it's time you made that call," Vasili says, eyes fixed on my abdomen with a frown.
We've got someone close to Marzena, but I won't risk burning him. Not yet.
"Not yet. I've got one more visit I can't put off."
Because even laid up like this, I've been digging for answers about Roxanne. And two days ago, I got confirmation on something that changes everything between us.
Chapter 36
Damien
I don't see why she had to drag me to this party. I could've stayed home. I could've sat with Berna, my older sister, and watched cartoons.
Not that Berna actually pays attention to the cartoons. She just stares into space, but during those twenty minutes we get in front of the TV, it's easier not to feel.
The air reeks of fish and champagne, and the room is covered in hideous green and gold wallpaper. Who puts something that ugly on their walls?
I spot Mom in a corner, her ash-blonde curls perfectly styled, that brownish lipstick applied without a single smudge, wearing her favorite black dress as she sits in some man's lap. His hand slides up her thigh and disappears under her skirt.
"Everyone will use you somehow, Damien." She was the first example of that. The moment I could grip a blade, she showedme how to make each cut, how to ensure someone either bleeds slowly or loses half their blood supply in five minutes.
"Something tells me you don't want to be here." I hear a voice from behind me, and when I turn, there's a woman with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing denim overalls.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. I'm not allowed to talk to anyone without her permission. But when I glance at Mom, her eyes are closed, caught up in whatever that man's doing to her.
"Can I ask you a favor?" The woman looks toward where my mother's kissing that guy.
I don't answer, because now Mom's eyes are open. And I really don't want to find out what will happen at home if I do something that pisses her off.
"My little girl is by the entrance. Could you keep her company for a few minutes, please? I promise I'll talk to your mother, explain everything."
Mom's eyes find us, and as she sizes up the woman next to me, something flashes across her face. Something new, something I've never seen in her eyes before: fear.
The woman approaches them, and after a brief exchange, Mom looks at me and gives a subtle nod of permission. I don’t wait another second before heading for the exit.
The smell of smoke and heavy perfume fades behind me, and when I reach the door, sitting on a bench beside it is a small girl with chocolate-brown hair.
She's wearing a little green dress covered in sequins, and her hair is held back with clips that look like diamonds.
When her eyes lift from the doll in her hands to me, something twists in my stomach.
There's no trace of cruelty, no corruption like what Berna and I carry. It's something I've seen in other kids but never in my own reflection.
"Do you want a candy?" she whispers, and a smile spreads across her entire face.
Candy has sugar. I'm not allowed sugar without Mom’s permission. Actually, I'm not allowed to eat anything until she gives the okay.
"I won't tell anyone, I promise. Cross my heart. Wait, no. Pinky promise. Actually, green promise, green's my favorite color this week." Her words tumble out slightly jumbled, and before I can control my facial muscles, I smile.
